


Before the Almond Trees bloom

by D_Joana_a_Shippadora



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mourning, fluffly, platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 18:52:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12371898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D_Joana_a_Shippadora/pseuds/D_Joana_a_Shippadora
Summary: Afonso’s life seemed black as mourning; and rightly so. After the loss of his beloved, the Portuguese close himself from the world. Antonio decided that it was enough and that he had to light up his brother’s life.





	Before the Almond Trees bloom

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> I don't know what to say about this, so I'm only wishing you a great reading!
> 
> PS: This is actually a spin-off of one of my fanfics. :'3 I didn't translate it or post it here, but if you want, I can post it.~

Antonio looked again at the dining room door, at a glance, and then at the clock on his cell phone. It was half past eight.  
He sighed. He wasn't coming to dinner. Again.

"Joel," he called the younger brother while he was seeing the news quietly on the couch. The teenager looked at Antonio. "let's have dinner. He won't come."  
"Shouldn't we insist?"  
"Dad said to not to insist." Antonio got up from his chair and checked to see if the dinner was still hot; it wasn't. He had to warm it up. "Well, he also said that we shouldn't come and spend these days here at Poncho's house..."

Antonio felt frustrated with himself; the heart of his older brother was broken and he didn't know what to do. Afonso had always been strong; it was in him that Antonio and Joel supported themselves when something terrible happened. It was he who supported and comforted them. But now... He gave in. His strength faded, mourning seized his body and mind. He was too weak to leave the room and face reality.  
They didn't know what to do; Antonio and their cousins were spending more hours in the pastry they worked for, founded by their deceased grandfather, to occupy the times when Afonso should be there.

In silence, the two brothers dined, believers that, perhaps, but only perhaps, Afonso would leave the room and join them.  
But that wasn't what happened.  
After dinner, Antonio arranged everything on a board and took him to Afonso's room. He knocked on the door; there's no answer.

"Poncho..." he called out, feeling his core grow heavy. "Open the door."

Antonio had no answer, which distressed him even more. Ignoring the rules of good manners, he opened the door.  
The Portuguese was tucked into bed in the dark. Maybe he was sleeping. Antonio switched on the lights and set the tray on the dresser. He walked to the window and opened it; that room needed airing.

"Afonso, wake up!" He exclaimed, approaching the bed. There was no answer. "Afonso!" He brushed the covers off. "Get out of this bed or I'll get the fucking bucket of water!"  
"Oh pah, shut up..." Afonso complained, poking his face into the pillow. It hurt his eyes, already unwonted with the clarity.

The Spaniard analyzed his brother; Afonso was in chaos. His hair, usually so well combed and treated, was messy and full of knots; beneath his green eyes were large dark circles and he seemed to have lost weight. Antonio's heart grew heavy; it was a pity seeing that.

"You have to get up from that bed!"  
"I don't want…"

The younger sighed in anguish. Seeing that only broke his heart. He sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at the white wall.

"Poncho, I know what you feel," Antonio confided sadly. "But I had someone to hold me. Do you remember when our grandfather died?" There was no answer, but Antonio progressed. "It was you who hug me when I tried not to cry; I pretended to be strong so that Joel and Delfim didn't know what had happened... But you let me cry in your chest, without anyone seeing." The younger one looked at Afonso, but he was still facing the pillow. He sighed. "When dad had that accident and Delfim died, it was you who took care of me and Joel when dad was at the hospital and our mom was at work. You learned how to cook for us, how to iron our clothes..."

Antonio smiled, remembering a shirt Afonso had burned with iron. He had been desperate; had hidden the shirt and waited until Antonio and Joel's mother came to ask what to do. Mireia didn't scold him; she was tired of work, of everything. _Done_. Her little boy died, the guilt was of her husband... Viriato was to blame for the death of his boy.  
Depression blinded her. She was tired of coming home and seeing the son the bastard had with some before her. Why did she have to take care of Afonso too? She was only his stepmother. She felt revulsion at him and Viriato.  
No, she couldn't take it anymore.  
She would prepare things to go with her children. She would return to live in Spain with Antonio and Joel. As soon as Viriato left the hospital, Mireia forced him to sign the divorce papers and each one went their own way.

"You kept company to our grandmother when we weren't here."  
"Why are you telling me this, Tonio?" Afonso sat on the bed, still not looking at his brother. "My company wasn't worth anything."  
"It wasn't your fault that grandmother died of disgust... Delfim was her favorite grandson, and then she was away from two other grandchildren..."  
"But I was with her."  
"Poncho..."  
"Please don't insist," Afonso asked in a low murmur. "I've already understood that God wants to destroy my life. First my family and now my boyfriend...?"  
"You're talking like your whole family is dead..."

Afonso finally looked at Antonio and contemplated his sadness. He didn't see the jovial joy he always carried in his face. And the cause was him.

"Sorry, Tonio..."

This time it was Antonio who didn't answer. He had to confess; he hated Afonso's deceased boyfriend, but he would never want death, let alone see his brother in that state.

"Go, eat dinner." Antonio rose from the bed, stretching his legs and smiled; a false and forced smile, but necessary. Afonso knew that. "Then take a shower, you have to. And you have to fix this nest of rats!"  
"Don't insult my hair!"

Antonio laughed, stammering something that Afonso didn't understand. He wouldn't ask him what he had said; he was relaxed that his younger brother was laughing, and this time it wasn't forcibly.  
He ate dinner while listening to Antonio talking about the pastry they owned. It wasn't popular yet, but they had regular customers who, according to the youngest, were missing Fonz.  
He spoke, with more affection, of little Rita, the well-known Ritinha. She missed her Fonfon and the cakes he made especially for her.

"Ah! The other day her first tooth fell and the tooth fairy visited her." He enthused. "She went to buy candy with the money the fairy left for her. She was very happy."  
"Hm... Too bad I missed that."  
"If you go to work tomorrow, you'll see her there."  
"I don't know if I'll go."  
"Ah..." Antonio didn't want to force his brother to go to work, however, his help would be good since it was a small business and they were doing a Halloween promotion; only four people full time and one part-time wouldn't result because of the slack...

Afonso knew this, but he wasn't ready to leave the house and have to look into the faces of other people who would most likely be asking why he was absent. He finished eating and went to bathe, ignoring the possibility of indigestion.  
In the bathroom, he thought about life, after all, what another place more pleasant for such a thing than the shower? The warm water that flowed through his body relaxed him and that helped him organize his thoughts.  
Sebastião, his beloved, wouldn't like to see him like this. He would say, with all certainty, to smile as he always smiled. _Your smile makes my problems disappear_ , that's what the other one told him one winter morning.  
They lived together; that house reminded him of Sebastião, but he didn't want to move. That would be the same as denying their dear memories together. It was in that house that they swore to live together forever. And so it would be; Sebastião was in the heart and memory of Afonso. Until the end of his life, they would be together.  
With that somewhat optimistic thought, he stepped out of the shower and wrapped the towel around the trunk. He began to dry his hair until the bathroom door was opened by Antonio with a kitchen bench.

"Let me comb your hair!"  
"But you don't knock on the door anymore?!"  
"Don't mind that."

He set the bench on the floor and made Afonso sit on it. Then he took the brush and began to comb his hair; with each brush, Afonso felt pain. He had been sloppy and his hair was terrible.

"Can't you be careful?!" He complained, biting his lip to ignore the pain.  
"You are the one should have been careful, you idiot." He laughed, fixing a piece of hair with a spring. "But let me tell you, if I solve this disaster, I will work in a hairdresser!"  
"Don't even dare." Warned Afonso, glaring at Antonio (or rather, his reflection in the mirror). "We need you at the bakery."  
"And we need you there. So I hope you're better soon to come back to us."

Afonso could not help himself and smiled, feeling his eyes damp. He was thrilled by what Antonio had just said. It had warmed the older man's broken heart. They say, there, that it is the maternal love that heals the broken hearts, nevertheless, in the absence of a mother, nothing better than a brother. They could have their differences, immense even, but in those moments, they helped each other. They were good brethren, despite their quarrels.

"Poncho, are you crying?!"  
"It's because of you!" he pouted and folded his arms.  
"Alright, alright.~"

Antonio hugged his brother, consoling him. He massaged his back as he cried, trying to not to make a sound.  
Although he had cried a lot in recent days, only then did he feel free of the burden of mourning.

The door of the establishment was opened and the bell attached to it announced the entrance of the customers. The little girl, with brown hair and eyes, dressed in witchy clothes, ran to the counter, smiling as if there was no tomorrow.

"Fonfon! You're back!"

Afonso looked at her and smiled; the child was happy to see him - she was smiling a lot!

"Ritinha, how are you? I heard you lost a tooth."  
"Yes, yes!" Rita exclaimed, pointing to where the tooth should be. "Look!"  
"I see!"  
"By the way," she tilted her head a little to the side, which made her look lovely. "Why do you have so many braids?"

The older man laughed, half embarrassed. Antonio had exaggerated and made a thousand and one hairstyles; he took advantage of the chance to have a guinea pig with hair as good as Afonso. But the Portuguese eventually had enough, especially because he was only in a towel; he could get sick!  
That had been the last hairstyle the Spaniard had done to him (and it had been very well, make it clear).

"It was Antonio who made them." He informed her. " Do you like it?"  
"Yes!"  
"Do you want him to braid you, too?"  
"Oh, I want to, I want to!"

Afonso smiled, beaming, and called his brother. He asked to braid Rita and he gladly accepted it. The older man watched them until their cousin, Gonzalo, asked Afonso to change with him; it would now be the Portuguese to cook the cakes.

Normality was returning to the pastry shop Amendoeira.


End file.
